Bruised
by Gillian Middleton
Summary: Part Seven of the Cute As... series.  An incident offworld threatens to tear John & Rodney apart.


**Bruised**

**by Gillian Middleton**

"For the three hundredth time, the plant descriptors are only general monographs. We want the botanical database. Keep looking."

"But I thought we could begin cataloguing if I-"

"Don't think," McKay interrupted. "Just work." He wriggled his fingers and nodded meaningfully at the datapad attached to the Ancient console. The scientist glared but bent back over his work, shoulders hunched irritably.

"Having fun, McKay?"

"I'm surrounded by morons," Rodney declared. "I've had to yell at each of them at least once and there are thirty here. So, yes, I am having fun. You?"

"Oh, you know. Securing the perimeter. Working on my suntan. Activating greenhouse controls. A regular laugh riot."

Rodney gazed up through the thick glass overgrown with creepers and vines. "I don't know that activating them is much use," he noted. "Unless someone wants to climb up and start uncovering them."

Sheppard raised a brow thoughtfully. "Hmm, I wonder who'd be dumb enough to volunteer for that?"

"Come on," Rodney wheedled. "Think of the scientific advances. Lurking in this fetid mess might be a cure for cancer. AIDS. Male pattern balding!"

Sheppard scrutinized Rodney's sweat damp hair, pulled ruthlessly back and tied in a bunch at the back of his head with what looked like a shoelace. "Not something you have to worry about any more."

Rodney stared at him. "What do you mean, any more? I had a thick head of luxurious hair."

Sheppard snorted. "Yeah, and washboard abs," he cackled. "While we're rewriting history why don't you just add a pirate shirt and an eyepatch? Dread pirate McKay."

"Ha ha," Rodney said sourly. "If you're finished maligning my corpse perhaps you'd like to contribute something to this mission."

"You're just pissed you have to organize a team full of botanists," Sheppard teased. "And scour through databases full of plants."

"And herbs," Rodney shot back. "Don't forget the herbs." He glanced around at the teams of botanists fondling overgrown plants and his own department members hunched over consoles then grabbed Sheppard's arm and dragged him a few feet away. "I'm so bored I'm about to chew my own leg off. Honestly, three square miles, eight complexes of Ancient greenhouses and computers, and it's all about _plants_. What a waste!"

"I know," Sheppard agreed. "Not a shield or a ship or a weapon in sight."

"Some of those rose bushes have some pretty nasty thorns," Radek commented as he strolled by.

"Yeah, that'll make the Wraith sit up and take notice," Rodney muttered, then he clutched Sheppard's arm tightly. "Get me out of here."

"Tomorrow," Sheppard promised. "These guys will be organized by then and my security teams will have scouted the whole perimeter."

"Then we can go home and I can do some real work?" Rodney said pathetically.

"I promise."

Rodney grinned and patted his arm, dimple flashing. Sheppard resisted the urge to pat him on the behind as he skipped away, then looked around to make sure no-one had noticed his ogling. Maybe he should just find a convenient tree and lay down in the shade for a while.

888

At dinner they all sat around campfires on logs. It would have been kind of rustic except they were eating out of foil containers that had been zapped in portable microwaves. The chicken curry was actually pretty good and Ronon unselfconsciously licked his container clean, emerging with yellow sauce on his eyebrows.

"And he still looks cool," Rodney complained as the big man casually ambled off to clean up. "Oh, I've got one! _The Incredible Hulk_."

"Bill Bixby," John returned. "Also good in _The Magician._ Umm, _The Fantastic Journey_."

"Too easy," McKay said scornfully. "The brilliant Roddy McDowell, who was oddly more attractive as a chimpanzee than he was a man." He forked up the last of his chicken and peered into the foil container, obviously wondering if he could get away with licking it clean. He settled for swiping the sides with his finger and sucking it.

Sheppard looked away, feeling his belly tighten with desire. This was so not the time to be thinking what he was thinking.

"_Land of the Lost,_" Rodney said, still slurping at his finger, and it actually took a moment for Sheppard to process his thoughts.

"The first season with the father, or the second with the uncle?" he said, stalling.

"Please," McKay shot back scornfully.

"Ron Harper played the uncle, he also played Alan Virdin on the TV series _Planet of the Apes._"

McKay stared at him. "Oh, you are good," he said admiringly, and Sheppard tried to look modest.

"I loved that show," John confided. "When I was stationed in Frankfurt they were showing episodes dubbed in German. You think it didn't make sense in English? Boy howdy."

McKay snickered. "Yeah, we picked up German TV signals in Siberia, well actually, I say picked up, we kinda piggy backed onto a few satellites in a desperate attempt to tune into any television signals at all. Completely illegal, of course. And somewhat frightening since all German TV seemed to show was badly dubbed US shows from the 70's. Of course, it was Siberia so we all watched anyway. Anything was better than ugly, ugly Russian women presenting the news on The Voice of Russia."

"I met a hot Russian chick once," Sheppard said, trying to remember what she looked like. "Svetlana."

"Please," McKay made a face. "They are all called Svetlana or Olga. And very few of them are hot. Although," he added reminiscently. "After a long, cold Siberian winter, they definitely start to get more attractive. With the added bonus that you do as well, so..."

Rodney's reminiscent smile faded a little and Sheppard sought for a way to distract him.

"Hey, I was thinking," John said loudly and heads around the fire turned his way. "Anyone want to go duck hunting before we leave tomorrow?"

Due to the hundreds of thousands of birds that swooped and circled in the sky all day long the biologists had already dubbed the planet Hedren (after the unfortunate heroine of Hitchcock's movie _The Birds_). During the daytime the scientists moved from complex to complex with their coats over their heads and the stoic marines guarding the perimeter returned smattered with droppings. The chance to get their own back on the avian population seemed popular and a dozen hands shot up.

The distraction also worked on McKay. His pinched expression had faded and his eyes were shining happily. "Roast duck," he breathed. "My god, you are a genius."

"Your first taste of _Duck a l'Orange_," Sheppard said, mangling the French accent. "We must have a crate of oranges back on Atlantis somewhere."

McKay looked intrigued. "You think?"

John patted him on the shoulder as his radio hissed and he tapped his ear piece and proceeded through his check-in with his perimeter guards, climbing to his feet and stretching his legs as he walked away from the noisy camp fire.

He checked the other group circling their own camp fire and ran his duck hunting suggestion by them. Most of this group were marines who had spent the day getting crapped on, again, they seemed particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

The closest greenhouse was still lit up and Sheppard frowned at the silhouettes moving around inside, the harsh temporary lighting casting grotesque shadows against the worn old glass. Surely he had seen the botanists collecting their dinner trays earlier that evening? Wondering what had drawn the hard-working botanists back to the greenhouse Sheppard activated the thick, ancient glass doors and padded into the steamy, close confines. Immediately he was overwhelmed by a powerful, sickly sweet smell and he staggered a little, reaching for one of the consoles and holding himself up.

"Whoa," he said, shaking his head, trying to clear it.

"I know," one of the botanists enthused, reaching out and grabbing his arm. "Isn't it great?"

"What?" Sheppard said, trying to focus on the scientist. It was Teasdale, head of the department and he was grinning wildly, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Night blooming blossoms," he said brightly. "We had no idea they were even here!"

Sheppard finally managed to focus on the flowers, huge, orange gold blooms hanging off a glossy leaved vine. They covered the walls, gleaming dully in the overhead light and the blur of condensation dripping off the walls and ceiling. "They smell weird..." he managed. Teasdale was still grinning widely and now Sheppard noticed the other scientists, gathered around the vines and stroking the waxy petals of the flowers.

Something was definitely off and Sheppard lifted a hand to his earpiece, vaguely thinking that he should call somebody, tell them about this. But then Teasdale was grabbing his arm again, pulling him over to the wall, and Sheppard's thoughts scattered like smoke.

"I gotta get out of here," he said, pulling free from the scientist's grip. Teasdale shrugged and turned away and Sheppard spun, looking for the door, wondering what the hell he was doing in here. The glass walls and ceiling were thick and dull from age, through them he could see the night sky, the stars wheeling above his head. By the wall a woman scientist was crouched, crying into her hands. Sheppard frowned, then lost interest, still looking for the door. And then it was before him and he was stumbling out, gasping in relief at the fresh, cool air.

In the distance he could make out the flicker of the campfire and he made his way towards it, dimly aware that there was something he needed to do. The ground seemed to pull at his feet as he walked and he panted hard, heart beating like a piston in his chest with the effort. Finally he came to rest against the trunk of a tree, focusing on the circle of people around the fire, immediately spotting the one he was looking for.

"Rodney," he mumbled, lips feeling thick.

But Rodney didn't seem to see him, didn't seem to understand that he was needed. Sheppard frowned as he saw that someone was sitting next to Rodney leaning forward and talking earnestly. And Rodney was listening, tilting his head then shaking it firmly.

"Rodney," Sheppard said again, the words falling out of his mouth and onto the ground, dead. Rodney now seemed miles away and the stars were wheeling above him again, blurring his vision, making him shudder with nausea.

"Sheppard?"

John opened his eyes and there was Rodney, trotting towards him through the long grass, away from the fire and the others.

"I thought I saw you lurking over here." Rodney stopped in front of him and peered at him in the dim starlight. "Are you okay?"

Relief shot through Sheppard, heady as wine. Rodney was here, no one was between him and what he wanted. He reached out and grabbed a slim wrist, turning away from the firelight and the other people, pushing through the trees and into the forest.

"Sheppard? Colonel, what the hell?" Rodney stumbled and Sheppard tightened his grip, hauling him through the grass and into a small clearing.

"You're hurting me," Rodney gasped and Sheppard let him go, let him collapse onto the grass. This was it, this was what he wanted. Here. Now.

Rodney.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Rodney panted, glaring up at him. He reached for his earpiece but Sheppard got there first, wrenching it from his ear and flinging it into the grass.

"Hey!"

Rodney had barely opened his mouth to protest when John was on him, grabbing the sides of his face and pressing a kiss to his parted lips.

"Mmph! Ouch!" Rodney sputtered, twisting under the grip of his hands and freeing his mouth. He was saying something but his words were coming out all wrong, garbled and twisted so Sheppard covered his mouth again to try and stop them. Things were growing dimmer now, everything but Rodney next to him and then under him, squirming and struggling and beating at his back with his fists. Under his mouth Sheppard tasted blood and he reared back with a snarl, feeling the sting of his lip.

He raised his hand, fist clenched, body heaving and through the haze surrounding him he saw wide brown eyes glaring at him, swimming with fear.

Rodney's eyes.

Rodney's eyes staring at him accusingly, Rodney pulling out from under him and pressing back against a tree. Rodney's hands clenching at the front of his shirt where the starlight made his flesh gleam through the rents in the torn material.

Sickness rose in Sheppard's belly, a tightness coiled in his chest and suddenly it was hard to breath, hard to see. The last thing he remembered was Rodney screaming his name.

888

Sheppard opened his eyes and focused, frowning and wincing against the light.

"Sorry," a voice said quietly and he turned his head, instantly regretting it as nausea choked his throat. Someone caught at his head and he vomited into a bowl, spitting and coughing as the bile burnt his throat.

"Try and keep still," the voice advised as he collapsed onto his back. "The nausea will fade."

"...happened?" John managed.

"You were affected by a powerful narcotic, Colonel Sheppard," the voice said. John nodded and then closed his eyes again as nausea threatened once more.

"Keeping still," he mumbled. "Right." He breathed deeply, nose wrinkling at the scent of vomit and blood. Finally he opened his eyes again and managed to focus on a face he recognized. Dr Keller. "I was what?"

"You inhaled the pollen from an alien plant, Colonel," the doctor said slowly and clearly. She looked up and nodded over his head to someone, but Sheppard didn't have the energy to turn his head. A moment later a nurse appeared and offered him a glass of water with a bent straw. He took a sip, feeling his lip sting and tasting blood in his mouth.

"There were flowers," he said muzzily, trying to remember what had happened. "The botanists were in the greenhouse."

"That's how they figured out what had affected you," Keller said grimly. "At first they thought you were having a heart attack. Then the botanists in the greenhouse went crazy and started attacking people."

John frowned, remembering Teasdale's face, lit up with wild passion. "Is anybody hurt?"

The doctor turned away and smoothed at his rumpled covers. "Ronon had to stun two of them," she said carefully. "There are four still missing, we have search parties looking for them in the woods."

John absorbed this, then tried to push himself up. "I have to help," he said, but the doctor easily pushed him back down.

"No, you need to rest," she said firmly. "You were exposed to an alien narcotic, Colonel, and as a result you suffered a severe seizure. You're not going anywhere."

Something was nagging at John's brain, but he was already exhausted from the short conversation and his nausea. "Is Rodney okay?" he asked, but he didn't remember hearing the answer before falling asleep.

888

John was dimly aware of sunlight and the roar of the stargate being engaged, jostling movements of the stretcher he was on making his head ache and his belly roil. And then he was home and the distant hum of the city soothed him back to sleep.

Next time he awoke it was in the infirmary and he blinked at the white ceiling, breathing in the all too familiar smell of antiseptic.

"Carson?" he murmured.

A cool hand stroked the hair back on his brow and he smiled, feeling a sting pulling at his lip. "Rodney."

"It's Dr Keller, Colonel. You're in Atlantis and you're safe."

John blinked and focused on the doctor, memories of his last awakening trickling slowly back. "The scientists?" he asked. "Did you find them?"

Dr Keller smiled tightly. "Yes, we found them." She slipped her stethoscope into her ears and listened to his chest for a moment. "Don't worry about anything, Colonel. Just concentrate on getting better."

John knew prevarication when he heard it and he reached out and caught her arm, the smooth skin of her slim wrist cool under his feverish touch. Suddenly he was back in the forest, under the sky, his hand on Rodney's arm, fragile bones grinding under his grip as he pulled Rodney through the grass and flung him to the ground.

"God," he gasped, falling back on his pillow. Memory after memory assaulted him and his chest tightened in agony at the images in his mind. Rodney struggling underneath him. Blood in his mouth and fabric tearing under his hands. And Rodney... Rodney... "God..." he gasped out, unable to take it in and yet unable to deny the very sense memory of it in his skin and mouth and nostrils. "God, what did I do?"

"Colonel?" Keller was leaning over him, face drawn and concerned but John closed his eyes to block her out, concentrating on the images flashing through his mind. A woman crouched on the floor, head in her hands, Teasdale, laughing wildly, head thrown back. The stars above him and the ground under him and he couldn't breathe, _he couldn't breathe_.

"A little help here!" Keller was yelling and a mask pressed hard against his face, blessed oxygen flooding his lungs. John reached out for it, IV line trailing and pulling at his flesh as he gulped at the air, tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes.

"What is it, what's happening?" That was Ronon's voice and stronger hands were holding him now. John felt his strength drain away as he breathed deeply, body collapsing back onto the bed.

"Another seizure," Keller was saying, and John focused on her voice, not wanting to pass out again. He could breathe, he was alive, the taste of blood in his mouth, coppery and flat proved it. But he could also remember things now, awful things, and he couldn't rest until he knew what the hell he'd done.

He pushed the mask aside and twisted his head, seeing Ronon beside the bed, his face grim with worry, and next to him Teyla, her hand gripping his arm through the blanket covering him.

"Rodney?" John choked out. "Did I...? Did I hurt him?"

Ronon's face closed up but Teyla squeezed his arm and smiled comfortingly. "Rodney is fine, John," she said clearly. "He knows this wasn't your fault."

That's not an answer, John thought, but darkness was on the edges of his vision again. One thought pounded in his skull as he slipped away.

If Rodney was fine, then where was he?

888

Rodney wasn't there the next time he awoke either, but Elizabeth was, sitting by his bedside, a datapad on her lap. She smiled and nodded at him and John nodded back tersely, not needing anyone to fill the blanks in for him this time. Memories were there, some dim, some frighteningly clear.

John endured the doctor's examination, lying and telling her he felt better, that his head didn't hurt so much, that the nausea had faded. She studied him skeptically, knowing him pretty well by now, but she didn't call him on it.

"A few days rest and you'll be fine," she assured him. "The scans show no residual damage from the seizures. Fortunately you were only exposed for a short time."

"The scientists?" he said, understanding from her face that the news was not good.

"The two that were stunned are in a stable condition," she reported. "We found two more, Dr Teasdale and Dr Parrish, unconscious in the forest. They're both still critical, although I have high hopes for their recovery."

"And the other two?" John remembered the woman crouched by the door, her face in her hands. He clenched his fists in the blanket.

"We recovered their bodies a few hours ago," Elizabeth said gently.

John nodded, having expected the worst. Elizabeth nodded at Keller who smiled, patted his arm, and left them alone.

"This was not your fault, John," Elizabeth said firmly. "The hallucinogen you were exposed to makes PCP look like aspirin. You suffered a seizure so severe that your heart stopped."

John nodded, because that's what you did when people told you comforting lies and you wanted them to think you were buying it. He braced himself.

"What did I do to Rodney?"

Elizabeth looked down for a moment, fingers toying with the edge of the white sheet. "Rodney's fine. A little bruised, but fine."

"Did I rape him?"

Elizabeth looked up, eyes widening in shock. "No!" She reached out and gripped his hand, squeezing his fingers. "No, John, you did not."

John peered into her concerned eyes, wondering if she was telling him the truth. There was ice inside him now, freezing out his emotions. He didn't deserve to feel anything anyway, he'd screwed up and people were dead because of it. And Rodney...

"I attacked him," John said evenly, needing to say it, needing to hear the worst.

Elizabeth's hand tightened. "Yes," she said simply. "You were drugged and you didn't know what you were doing. Rodney himself told me that."

A shard of pain penetrated the ice inside him. "He told you that?"

"He did. He said you were burning up and your pupils were dilated and you were clearly in distress." Elizabeth squeezed his hand again until he looked up, meeting her eyes. "Rodney does not blame you, John," she assured him.

"Then where is he?"

888

The day passed. John couldn't have faced food even if his stomach had been up to it, but he drank the liquids the doctor forced down him and closed his eyes obediently when ordered.

Elizabeth had had no answer for his question, but he hadn't really been expecting one. Hazy memories played behind his eyes every time he closed them, and each one damned him more. Rodney struggling underneath him. Small hands beating against him. Blood in his mouth.

Rodney had defended him. Elizabeth probably thought it would make him feel better, but it only made it all worse. John didn't want to be defended or excused. He'd screwed up again. He deserved to be punished.

Ronon stopped by, standing with his usual ease by the bed. He filled in some of the blanks in John's memory.

"McKay called me on the radio. Screaming that you were having a heart attack or something. When we got there he was doing that chest thingy that Carson gave us lessons about."

John nodded, seeing it all too clearly in his mind.

"You started breathing again and I was carrying you back to the gate when there was more screaming. A bunch of scientists were going crazy, smashing stuff up in the camp. I only managed to stun two of them, mainly because I was carrying you."

"You saved their lives."

Ronon shrugged. "McKay said you must have all been drugged or something, he ordered the greenhouses shut up and we dialed Atlantis for back-up and the doc for you. They quarantined the camp but McKay and the others figured out what it was, just from where all the plant scientists had been working. Flowers," Ronon said, shrugging.

"Is he... How was he? Rodney?"

"Bruised," Ronon said frankly. "I gave him my shirt, his was pretty torn up."

John nodded, jaw tight. "Did he say anything to you?"

Ronon shrugged. "You know McKay. He doesn't stop talking, but he didn't really say anything, if you know what I mean. Just that it wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," John said curtly. "I was in command, that makes me responsible. I could see that there was something wrong with the botanists as soon as I went into the greenhouse, I should have called for help."

"Those botanists work with plants all the time. That's their job. They didn't warn anybody either."

"It all happened so fast," John said numbly.

Teyla came by late in the afternoon and John pushed himself up against the pillows to talk to her. In a way he dreaded facing her almost as much as Rodney. He could recall all too clearly when he'd been infected with the Iratus retrovirus. He'd attacked her that time, pushed her against a wall and kissed her. She better than anybody knew that this was his fault, that there was something wrong in him that brought this side out in him when his control was gone.

But there was no condemnation in her eyes when she dipped her head to meet his gaze.

"I spoke to Rodney," she began.

John stared at her, not wanting to hear those same platitudes from her that everybody else had been mouthing but almost desperate for news about Rodney.

"He is in shock, I think," she said carefully. "He asked me about you many times, but when I suggested he come and see you he shook his head. I think he feels... ashamed."

"Ashamed?" John repeated, horrified. "What does he have to be ashamed about? I attacked him, for god's sake!"

"He said that he should have noticed sooner that something was wrong with you. That he should have been able to help you more quickly."

John was shaking his head feverishly. "No, that's crazy. How could he know? I dragged him into the forest, I hurt him."

"Rodney says that he was in charge of the scientists, that he should have been checking on them more closely. He says it is like Dr Houston and Dr Watson all over again."

"When Carson died," John said in disbelief. He pushed the covers aside and swung his feet off the bed. "I have to see him, I have to talk to him."

Teyla caught at his arm as he swayed, flicking a glance over her shoulder. "The doctor said you must rest."

"Teyla, please," John said, grabbing at her arm, then releasing her as if stung when memories assaulted him again. "Please," he begged. "Everything's gone wrong, everything's a mess. Rodney is... He didn't do anything wrong, okay? I need to see him, to tell him that." He gazed into her eyes, willing her to understand. "I need to see him."

Teyla gazed back, and then nodded. Relived, John plucked the IV from the back of his hand and looked around for his clothes.

"Your clothes were destroyed in decontamination," Teyla said, drawing a curtain closed and peering quickly through it. "I will find you a robe. But you must promise to come straight back here after you have seen Rodney."

"I will," John promised.

888

John didn't bother with a radio, so he didn't know if Keller put an APB out on him when he absconded from the infirmary. There didn't seem to be anybody rushing around looking for him and he only received a few curious stares as he padded through the halls of the city in paper slippers. His head was swimming a bit but he felt surprisingly clear-minded as he stepped into a transporter and thumbed the residential floor.

An hour ago he had dreaded facing Rodney now all he wanted to do was see him, to make sure he understood that none of this was his fault. John was the one to blame here, he was supposed to be looking out for Rodney, instead he had let him down.

His determination lasted until he was outside Rodney's door and then all his energy seemed to pour out of him and he collapsed against the wall, staring at the blank white surface unseeingly.

What the hell was he doing? Rodney was not going to want to see him, let alone hear some lame apology. Teyla and Elizabeth should be the ones to assure Rodney that he was not to blame, to comfort him.

The time when John could comfort Rodney had ended in that forest clearing, ended with Rodney's wide, frightened eyes glaring at him in accusation.

The door opened and Rodney rushed out into the hallway, stopping abruptly when he saw Sheppard slumped against he wall.

"Sheppard? What the hell are you doing, everybody's out looking for you!"

John blinked, Rodney sounded irritated and out of sorts. Normal, in fact.

Rodney stepped a little closer, peering at him in concern. "You okay?" he said gently. "You don't look so good."

"I wanted to see you," John said, forcing the words around the lump in his throat. Because now he was seeing Rodney and the sight almost brought him to his knees in shame. The left side of Rodney's face was puffy and dark with bruising, his lower lip torn and swollen. Even his throat was bruised and under his gaze Rodney lifted a self-conscious hand and drew the sides of his uniform collar together.

"It looks worse than it is," he offered.

John barely heard him. "I'm so sorry," he managed hoarsely. He tried to straighten, putting his hand out to push away from the wall, and Rodney flinched, taking a step back from him. The sight was like a jagged knife in his belly. "I really am sorry," he whispered brokenly, then he turned and walked away, ignoring Rodney calling his name.

888

John knew his city like the back of his hand, and he stumbled in and out of two transporters before finding himself out on the East Pier. If he could have he would have run there, but his legs barely carried him to the spot by the wall where he liked to catch his breath when he was jogging with Ronon. It was shady and sheltered from the ocean breeze and John slid down the wall and lowered his head to his knees in despair.

It was over. Of course it was over. The minute he'd grabbed Rodney, hurt him, bruised him, it was over. Of course Rodney would flinch away from him now, face flushing, eyes wide with fear.

Rodney would never trust him again.

What the hell was wrong with him anyway? The hallucinogen had only scrambled his brain, but what exactly had guided his feet to Rodney? What sick part of him had driven him to attack the person he cared about more than any other?

John rubbed his face on the knees of his starchy hospital garb, not bothering to hold back the slow, burning tears of grief.

He loved Rodney. It didn't even scare him to admit that to himself any more. In fact it hadn't for quite a while now, ever since he'd been confronted by the realization that Rodney's new body wasn't the bargain everyone seemed to assume it was. That Rodney's body might yet be a ticking time bomb waiting to kill him.

John remembered that day so clearly now. Rodney on his bed, talking so matter-of-factly about what was wrong with him. John's own relief that he wasn't going to have to watch Rodney die all over again. Those long evening hours where they'd laid on the bed side by side in the dappled glow of sunset, talking about their families and their childhood in a way they never had before.

Now that was all gone. The trust and friendship they'd built up over years. The love that had grown so steadily between them for months. That sense of belonging to one person that John knew he'd never felt before, not even with his ex-wife, not even in those first days with her when he'd thought he might have finally found a home.

Smashed apart and blown away by violence and lust.

Footsteps sounded on the metal platform and John buried his head further against his drawn up knees, not wanting to see anyone, not wanting them to see him.

"I've called off the dogs," Rodney said, and John's shoulders jerked in surprise at the sound of his voice. "I told them I'd find you and bring you back to the infirmary."

John sat still, listening as Rodney slid down the wall, cloth rustling as he crossed his legs and leaned back with a sigh.

"Here's the thing," Rodney said quietly. "You remember Rosmar – and that big creepy guy who had the hots for me?"

John didn't speak, but Rodney didn't seem to expect an answer.

"Ever since then I've had these… dreams. Nightmares I suppose would be closer to the mark. Not so much lately but at first… I could smell him, you know? Feel the strength of his hands. I know it's stupid, I mean, he barely laid a hand on me."

"It's not stupid," John said thickly. He sniffed, lifting his head and blinking dazedly. The sun was going down and the ocean was lit up all red and gold. Rodney was sitting against the railings, the evening breeze gently stirring his curls. He smiled but all John could see was the dark mottled bruising of his skin.

John looked back down at his knees.

"The thing is," Rodney continued, undeterred. "Since the body swap I'd known in my head how different things were for me. I mean, I lived with those differences every day. But on Rosmar, for the first time I felt... vulnerable. Weak."

"You're not weak," John said shakily. "You fought that guy, twice. You got yourself out of trouble."

"With a little help," Rodney reminded him. "But it still left… marks."

John's eyes were drawn again to the puffy bruising around Rodney's mouth, the way his hands clutched his arms so carefully. He swallowed and looked away.

"I think it's why I've been reluctant to take things to the next level with you," Rodney admitted. "I really hated the thought of being that vulnerable."

John nodded. He'd sort of guessed that part, although he hadn't known that Rodney was still haunted by their experiences on Rosmar. And he should have shouldn't he?

"I suppose what I'm trying to do is explain why I pulled away from you just now," Rodney continued. "And why I didn't come to see you in the infirmary."

"You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do," Rodney interrupted. "You have to understand, Sheppard, it's not easy being one thing your whole life and then having to get used to being something else. All the things I was afraid of, my whole life, I was never afraid of that. Of... of being raped."

John flinched.

"When I pulled away from you I suppose my head was still in that space. A place where I was small and scared and weak."

John couldn't take it any more. "God, Rodney," he choked out. "You're not weak, you're the strongest person I know."

"I am," Rodney said simply. "I just forgot that for a little while, that's all."

John lifted his head and gazed at him, amazed. Rodney had his arms crossed and the dark bruises on his wrist were clearly visible. But his gaze was calm and his eyes were serene.

"I hid out in my room as if I had done something wrong, I felt ashamed, can you believe that? Oh, wait, I guess you can," Rodney said wryly. "Because you're doing the exact same thing now. Feeling ashamed of something that was completely out of your control. That wasn't your fault."

"But it was me," John said painfully. "The botanists went crazy and smashed up the camp, but I came after you. I... I..."

"You were drugged out of your mind," Rodney said sternly. "You should have seen yourself. Your pupils were dilated, you could barely walk in a straight line. You are not responsible for what you did, any more than I was responsible for what happened. It was just another day in the Pegasus Galaxy, right?"

It wasn't that easy, it couldn't be that easy. John was a man who had spent his life protecting people weaker than him. To have struck out in violence now at the person he cared most about and deserved it least - how was he supposed to live with that?

"You know I have been there myself, remember?" Rodney reminded him. "It might have been Wraith enzyme and not PCP laced flowers from hell, but you think I don't look back on what I did and said back then and cringe? You think I don't know what it's like to live with that?"

John had only heard about Rodney dosing himself with the Wraith enzyme to escape captivity from Elizabeth and Carson after the fact. He'd been a little busy at the time trying to save his team from certain death. "You didn't attack anyone," he said hoarsely.

Rodney snorted. "Unless you count the two goons I beat the crap out of," he said wryly. "And no, I pretty much collapsed into a heap when I arrived back here, so I didn't attack anyone. But I said some stuff..." He turned his mouth down, eyes haunted. "I said some stuff to Carson that I can never take back now. Awful stuff."

"Carson understood," John assured him. "He knew it wasn't your fault."

"And do you understand?" Rodney said sharply. "That none of this was your fault?"

John shook his head, stubbornly. "I attacked you. That came from me, Rodney, from something in me. The drug messed with my head, but I was the one who..." John swallowed down his self loathing. "I'm the one who did that to you. If I hadn't had that seizure I would have... I was going to..." He broke off, unable to say it.

"You stopped," Rodney told him. "Do you remember that?"

John shook his head dumbly.

"You pulled away and I thought you were going to hit me, and then, suddenly, you stopped. You were looking at me, but I honestly think that was the first time you really saw me. Your face..." Rodney climbed to his feet and crossed the platform, dropping to his knees in front of John. This close John could see the bruising, the swollen, puffy, flesh, that damning wound on his lip. But he could also see the soft look in Rodney's eyes, the gentle understanding.

"You came back to yourself for just a moment before the seizure, and I know as sure as I know that I'm a super-genius that was the real you waking back up. Do you know how I'm so sure of that?"

John shook his head again, mesmerized by the small smile that tilted Rodney's torn mouth.

"Because I know that you would never hurt me," Rodney said simply. "I know that you would die to protect me. Wouldn't you?"

John blinked against the rush of tears that filled his eyes, feeling one spill and trail down his cheek as he nodded.

"You have always been so gentle with me," Rodney said quietly. "So careful. I… I love you for that."

John blinked in stunned surprise, never expecting to hear such a simple, easy truth from his complicated friend.

"You love me?"

"Duh," Rodney said, but that small smile blossomed and there was that dimple, creasing the tender curve of his cheek. John reached out, his fingers trembling, giving Rodney the chance to back away if he wanted to. But Rodney tilted his head with a little sigh and let John cup his face tenderly. The bruises still made John ache, his throat was still thick with tears, but somewhere inside him something was coming back to life, something he'd thought he had killed back on that planet.

"I love you," Sheppard said, and the words came from that place.

Rodney's face flushed with pleasure and his smile widened. "Yeah, I know," he said.

Then he slowly leaned forward and engulfed John in a hug, slim arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him close.

Happiness was the oddest thing, John thought, as he rested his head against Rodney's breast and let himself be hugged. A few words, a smile filled with love and it could just fill you up, chase out the bad memories and the worries and replace them with this. This forgiveness, this peace.

He didn't have to tell Rodney that it would never happen again. He didn't have to make promises and swear anything. There was only one thing John had to say and it pretty much said it all anyway.

"I love you."

Epilogue

"It's about time Dr Teasdale took some leave anyway," Elizabeth said, rubbing wearily at her eyes. "But it's not going to be easy for the surviving members of the Botany Department to manage with their depleted numbers."

Sheppard nodded, knowing that Elizabeth had spent the morning writing letters of condolence to the family members of the two botanists who had died. At least the four survivors were doing well, although all of them were rotating back home on the next Daedalus run.

"Teasdale will be back," John predicted confidently. "And Parrish as well, I bet. This place gets in your blood."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed with a wry grin. "But not everyone is as crazy as we are, Colonel."

Sheppard conceded that with a shrug.

Elizabeth pressed her palms together and gazed at him thoughtfully. "Actually, John, I want to run something else by you as well. The SGC has been requesting Rodney return to Earth for a visit to finalize his new identity details. I think that now would probably be a good time for him to go."

John digested this, automatically hiding his reflexive response. He and Rodney were still coming to terms with their new feelings for each other, which, because they were both guys (mostly) consisted of them going on as usual and pretty much pretending that nothing major had been said. The last thing John wanted was for Rodney to disappear from his life for months.

Besides, he'd kind of miss him. A bit.

"I guess he could do with the break," Sheppard said, trying to sound thoughtful. "And he should probably visit his sister and clue her in on his new situation in person."

Elizabeth nodded. "I gather Colonel Carter has something she wants to discuss with him as well."

John settled back unhappily. If Carter wanted Rodney back at the SGC for something then that was pretty much it. Carter got what Carter wanted.

"I was wondering if you want to go with him," Elizabeth said.

John blinked at her, absorbing this. "Me? Go back to Earth?"

Elizabeth inclined her head. "If you'd like. It might be easier for Rodney this first time if he had a friend with him. It also occurs to me that it might help Mrs Miller to have a friendly face by Rodney's side when he shows up on her doorstep claiming to be her brother." Elizabeth grimaced. "Even for someone who's been to Atlantis this situation is bizarre. To say the least."

"But a round trip on the Daedalus takes weeks," John pointed out reluctantly. Because a part of him didn't care and just really wanted to say yes. "Months if we stay on Earth for a week or two. I'm not sure I want to leave Atlantis for that long."

"I'm not sure I could pry Rodney out of his lab for that long, even with a summons from Colonel Carter," Elizabeth said wryly. "But I think we can spare enough power to send you home via the stargate. A week on Earth and the trip back here will see you gone barely a month."

John sat forward, cheered up considerably by the suggestion. "That's doable," he agreed.

"Then that's settled," Elizabeth said complacently. "I'm glad. I think some time away together will do you and Rodney the world of good."

John nodded absently, mind already racing ahead with plans. And then her words sunk in.

"Uh," he said. "Together?"

Elizabeth's smile widened into a grin and John knew that he was busted.

"You know," he said flatly and Elizabeth shrugged.

"It wasn't hard to figure out. After Hedren Rodney was pretty upset, and worried as hell about you. Nothing new for a member of your team, but I could see that it was a little more than that bothering him." Brown eyes twinkled. "Call it my woman's intuition."

John managed not to flinch at the mention of the disastrous mission on Hedren. He and Rodney had talked it through and John knew he was forgiven, in as much as forgiveness consisted of Rodney calling him an idiot about eight times a day for blaming himself.

"Uh huh," John said, trying to read her expression and not getting past her obvious amusement. "So, are you... okay with it?"

"I'm very happy for both of you," Elizabeth informed him. "Actually I was surprised, and not surprised," she revealed candidly. "You and Rodney just seem to belong together. You always did," she added playfully.

"Sounds like you were less surprised than me then," John said, unsure how he felt about this. There was just something easier about keeping things quiet - although he had to wonder now, how many other people had seen right through them?

"We might have to talk about reorganizing your team, when you get back from Earth," Elizabeth said, fiddling with her datapad for a moment.

"Of course," John said easily. _Over my dead body_, he thought. Not that a part of him (the deep down caveman part) didn't like the idea of Rodney staying on Atlantis where he was (relatively) safe. But Rodney was too valuable out in the field to stay off a team. And Sheppard had spent three years training him up until he was just right, he wasn't about to see someone else reap the benefits of all his efforts.

Not to mention that he didn't trust anybody else to keep Rodney safe.

888

"Hey," John greeted, strolling into Rodney's lab. He kept the pleasant smile on his face when Rodney turned to him, even though the sight of the now livid bruises still made his stomach clench a little with guilt. Rodney would just call him an idiot again if he let it show, so he fought to keep the guilt buried, where it belonged.

"Oh, hey," Rodney said, turning on his stool and smiling cheerfully. "Check it out, everyone has been all sweet and concerned ever since I started back to work. Normally I'd find it sickening beyond belief and quickly take steps to squash them all back into place, but look!" He held up a plate. "Score! Cookies! Chocolate chip cookies! I should get beaten up more often."

A startled laugh burst out of John and he leaned up against the bench, shaking his head as the tight feeling in his gut faded once more. Even guilt didn't stand a chance against the battering ram that was Rodney McKay.

"What?" Rodney said, spattering cookie crumbs.

"It's good to see your sensitivity wasn't damaged, McKay," John teased, and Rodney looked contrite.

"Thorry," he said around a mouthful of cookie. He chewed and swallowed then held the plate out. "Want one?"

John shook his head, letting Rodney grab a hold of his uniform shirt and tug him a step closer.

"Hi," Rodney said, stroking the stiff fabric idly between thumb and finger.

"Hi," John said, suddenly overwhelmed with relief that he didn't have to lose Rodney for weeks. Who cares if Elizabeth knew about them? "Hey, Rodney? Elizabeth was talking about us taking a trip back to Earth."

"I'm not leaving my department for that long," Rodney said swiftly.

John explained about using the gate for the first leg of the journey and Rodney considered it, absently chasing a stray choc chip around the plate with his finger.

"I guess Atlantis could spare us for a month," he mused, then his attention sharpened as he stopped worrying about his work. "Us?"

"Yeah. Elizabeth knows about us."

"How?" Rodney said sharply. He narrowed his eyes. "You blabbed, didn't you? You have no idea how to keep a secret, do you? I swear..."

"She guessed," John interrupted. "Turns out she isn't an idiot. Who knew?" He didn't mention that Rodney himself had given the game away the week before. He'd rather let Rodney bitch at him for a while than bring that up again. Besides, Rodney bitching was kind of fun.

"You okay with that?"

John shrugged. "Yeah."

Rodney just surveyed him a second or two longer, then shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay you want to go back to Earth?"

"The SGC have been nagging me to go back and sort some stuff out. I think they just want to stare and point at me, actually," he added gloomily.

"I'm sure they won't actually point," John murmured and Rodney's stroking fingers instantly attacked his ribs, making him fold like a cheap suit and prompting what he called a yelp but what Rodney would forever after classify as a giggle.

"Oh god, that means I have to see Jeannie, doesn't it?" Rodney said a while later when John had his dignity back and Rodney had been thoroughly kissed into submission.

"She'll be fine," John said, idly tugging on a loose curl just to watch it spring back.

Rodney snorted. "You have met my sister, haven't you? Oh yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. "This is going to be fun."

End of Part Seven.


End file.
